


Your Love is Bright as Ever (even in the shadows)

by dynamicsymmetry



Series: Pacify [20]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Femdom, Incest Play, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicsymmetry/pseuds/dynamicsymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letting Beth take control that first time, Daryl knows he opened a door. But he didn't expect this to walk through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Love is Bright as Ever (even in the shadows)

**Author's Note:**

> SO. Yeah. I was like "I wonder if..." and then "if it was possible, how..." and then I wrote the thing. Sorry not sorry. I'll be waiting for you in Hell.
> 
> Title, for those who care about such things, is Beyonce's "XO".

He knows he opened a door.

Or she did. She opened it and he took her hand and walked through it with her. And it was easy. It felt right in a way he never would have expected and was completely unsurprised by. Maybe it's always been this way, actually. It _started_ this way. He did what he did to her because she _goaded_ him into it and she meant to. Shut her up with his belt around her wrists and her face shoved against the table, and did it because she was _demanding_ it.

He fucked her raw but only because he wanted to obey her. And every single time since.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror the morning after, her still asleep, staring at himself and tracing a fingertip over the bruises on his throat. He's trembling, and it takes him a few minutes to realize it.

He's bruised. She marked him. And not like she does when he's overpowering her and she's fighting back, kicking and biting and clawing at him. What happened was nothing like that.

She _took_ him.

Before this all began, he had every reason for hating and fearing the marks he puts on her. He has every reason to hate and fear these marks now. But he doesn't. He looks at them, feels the burning ache when he swallows, and heat pounds everywhere. Beneath his breastbone. Beneath his ribs. His spine.

Straight into his cock.

He doesn't want to stop. It was always this way, under everything.

He doesn't think what they've had is going anywhere. But they're going to find out where this new thing can go.

~

But it's not how he expects. Though maybe he should have. She jumped in as hard as she did because she was scared and angry and in so much pain from an old, poorly healed wound. She couldn't jump in like that again. She needs to work up to it. She can, he's sure she can, and sure that eventually she could jump far beyond what she's already done, but it's not what she's used to and she's going to take small steps at first. And that's all right.

She helped him. He can help her.

But this.

She's nowhere to be seen when he comes home - comes back after two days out, further afield with Aaron than he's been in a while. Found nothing and no one, and he's tired and stiff from hours on the bike, and he wants to eat and fuck her and sleep for a while and not necessarily in that order, but when he walks through the door from a low dusk into a house not lit much brighter - only the small reading lamp on the table by the sofa - at first he's not sure if she's even there.

She knew he was coming back sometime today. She would have been expecting him. And there's no practical reason why she shouldn't go where she pleases, but this is part of their routine: she's there when he comes home, because odds are he'll want to use her right away or very soon after and he won't appreciate being kept waiting.

If she's not here now he'll get to punish her later. That could be fun too. Very possibly she's misbehaving for exactly that reason.

So he slings his pack down by the door, shoves off his boots, and drags himself heavily up the dark stairs, and it's probably his weariness that sends him right into the bathroom without checking the bedroom first. Without even glancing in there.

He almost dozes off in the shower, both hands braced on the tile and letting his hair fall into his eyes and stream water down his cheeks, until it starts to run cold. He fumbles for a towel, does a very cursory job with it, and he's still rubbing it over his head as he makes his way into the bedroom, eyes half closed and ready to tumble down and sleep until whenever she decides to come home-

And she's there.

He's halfway to the bed before he focuses on her, and he stops dead, eyes snapping wide, the towel almost slipping out of a hand gone abruptly numb.

The bedroom itself is lit - not brightly but both lamps by the bed, more than bright enough to see. More than enough to see Beth laid out on the bed like something on display - which she absolutely fucking is. She's propped slightly up on a stack of pillows with her head thrown back and her parted lips shining with spit and her legs spread as wide as they'll go, the fingers of one hand in a tight V to hold open the lips of her freshly shaved cunt while the other pumps what looks like a thick decorative glass bottle in and out of herself, all smooth glistening purple ridges, her hand cupping its softly rounded base. She doesn't seem aware of him at all, her eyes squeezed shut and her soft little moans nearly drowned out by the wet slurp of the bottle as she slides it deep and jerks it back again. But she is. She most certainly is. She _was_ waiting for him, waiting with this present, and she's still begging for punishment, because she _knows_ she's not supposed to do this when he's not here unless she's explicitly been instructed to do so.

But he's not sure he cares. Seconds ago he was exhausted to the point of dropping. Now he's violently awake, skin hot and tight and thrumming with racing blood, cock standing up dark and unbearably hard with two days of wanting and needing and not having her.

So he'll fuck her. Then sleep. Then come up with some creative ways to make her miserable for a while.

And he really _is_ ready to drop the towel and go for her when she opens her eyes and sucks in a sharp gasp.

"Daddy."

So. This.

Which is also not surprising, especially given what she's doing - wanting to be punished, wanting him to be _cruel_ to her - and he wrestles back a groan and is just about to answer her according to their script, about to be outraged and call her a filthy girl and demand that she explain herself, when she keeps going.

In a tone he's not sure he's ever heard from her.

It's her soft _baby girl_ voice, a little higher than normal, a little breathless, but it's pulled down to a low purr, rougher, almost sultry, and as he processes what she's saying he knows this is _not_ going to go the way it normally does.

"It's okay, Daddy. You can watch." She swallows, flows the sound into a shivering whimper, slows and draws out each sticky _squelch_ as she fucks herself. She's staring at him with half-lidded eyes, teeth just visible and tongue flicking out across her lips, arching her back to show off breasts capped with flushed pink nipples already hard in advance of his pinching fingers. "I know you want to. I've seen how you look at me. It's alright."

She's showing him. Indicating. Giving him signs. They have a simple plotline of sorts, a kind of invented history, and whatever they do when they do it this way is something with which these two characters are - for the most part - already familiar. But she's winding it all back to some other point. A beginning.

He knows what she wants him to say.

"I shouldn't."

"You can. I... Oh, _God,_ Daddy, I want you to. Please- please watch me, _ah_..."

He shakes his head, clutching the towel - half obscuring his cock as if he doesn't want her to see. He can do this. Isn't even really thinking about it. Like the first time, it just comes. "Ain't right, baby. I can't."

"I don't _care._ " She tosses her head, tangled blond strands flung across her chin and mouth, and he can see the whites of her rolling eyes as she briefly finds more speed. "Watch me. Do it, Daddy. Don't you lie to me. Don't pretend you don't want me." She releases her lips and slides up to her swollen clit, fingertips rubbing in slow, firm circles. "You wanna see me come, Daddy? Wanna see your little girl come all over her fingers?"

"Baby, you need to stop." But his hand is moving too, hovering over his shaft, and he's almost _squirming,_ he wants to take it so bad. And he can't. Not until she tells him, in whatever way she chooses to do so. Not until she lets him know that his active participation in this is desired. "We can't do this, it ain't-"

"I can do whatever I want, Daddy." It starts as a moan and deepens into a growl as she abandons her clit and pushes herself up on one hand, legs somehow even wider, muscles straining as she fucks herself even faster, even deeper. "You won't stop me. I know. You wanna fuck me. You're just as dirty as me, you wanna _fuck_ me, and that's what you're gonna do."

"Baby girl, _please._ "

"Please... What?" She laughs, dropping back, wicked and lifting herself high and returning her nimble fingers to her clit. "Daddy, I'm gonna come- oh _fuck,_ I'm gonna come so _hard,_ Daddy, look at me, don't you dare look away, you _look at me-_ "

He doesn't want to look away. He's not sure he _can,_ panting with the world pulsing red around the edges, already tasting her, already almost _drooling_ with wanting her and his cock practically shrieking for his hand, pressure, friction, _anything_ \- But he knows his part in this and he knows what she wants him to do, and he looks away, somehow locating the self-control he needs to winch his eyes closed, jaw clenching in the rhythm of the smack of the bottle in her cunt and her crescendoing cries - _Daddy, I'm comin', oh God, Daddy, it's so good, oh God, oh God, yes-_

"Baby girl," he whispers, and he can't do anything else.

Everything blanks out for a few seconds. Then he can hear her again through the deep red darkness he's pulled around himself, rough gasps that edge close to giggles, sometimes into moans, wordless. If he looked at her he knows what he would see - her inner thighs glistening with her juices, the equally glistening bottle in her hand, lifted to her mouth, dripping onto her eager tongue as she soaks herself in.

"Daddy, fuckin' _look at me._ "

She's not asking. Not even remotely. She's still close to laughing but the words come out in a sharp hiss, demanding - not a spoiled little girl like he knows she could pretend but something more serious, almost _dangerous,_ and he obeys her, opens his eyes and swings his gaze back to her - and once again comes very near to falling.

She's still lying there, legs still spread, wet just like he thought she would be - soaking the covers under her, he's sure - but she's not licking the bottle clean.

She's holding it out to him. And as he watches a pearlescent drop gathers on the tip - it's not a bottle, at least not exactly, because the tip itself is smooth rather than open and the entire thing is solid rather than hollow - and drips in a spidersilk-thin strand onto the bed.

"Come and get it, Daddy." She _does_ giggle then, a sweetly delighted sound. "My pussy tastes so good."

He drops the towel and goes to her.

Her eyes widen when they land on his cock and again her pink tongue flicks across her lips, and he can't choke back his moan. "Look how much you want me. Your cock is so _big_ , Daddy, you're so hard for me..." She slides forward and leans up, extending the glass to his watering mouth. "First you take this. You lick it all up, Daddy. Don't waste any of it."

He lowers himself to the bed on his hands and knees and crawls, cock bobbing heavy and aching between his legs, leans in, and as he does she moves the glass just an inch above his mouth, touches it to his upper lip and smears it in a slow circle, down to the dip above his chin and back around.

Her eyes are wide blue fire.

"Suck it, Daddy."

He does. And he doesn't need any more help from her to make the leap in his mind as he opens for the tip and his tongue slides beneath it, lapping at it, a whimper trapped in his throat. She pushes it deeper with a soft breath and his lips stretch around it, her heavenly salt-sweetness coating his tongue - and he sucks it, _Jesus,_ sucks it like she's offering him a cock slicked with her wet, hollows his cheeks and groans when she pulls it back and presses it in. And back. And in, fucking his mouth with it, and his eyes fall shut again. He can't even look at her anymore.

"That's good, Daddy." Back to purring, closer, her breath a warm puff on the side of his neck. "You love my pussy. Already. Haven't even had it yet. I know you've been thinkin' about it. Shouldn't think things like that about your little girl, should you?"

All he can do is moan again. This is awful. _Fucking HELL, girl._

"It's okay, Daddy. It's our secret." Her mouth, soft lips, closing over his earlobe and tugging before they begin to drift downward toward his neck. Hot whispers against his skin. He shivers, deep and out of control, and she laughs yet again. "If you fuck me real good I'll let you lick me next time. You like that? I bet you would. You're so _bad,_ Daddy."

He feels her moving beneath him, sliding under, and the glass shaft wobbles in his mouth. "Hold it for me. Don't let go."

He realizes what she wants a second before she releases the glass and he takes it in his hands, wraps his fingers around its ribs. He could stop, he could just hold it, try to get his breath and work enough oxygen into his brain to stop the room from spinning, but of _course_ he doesn't miss a beat: he keeps it moving, fucking his own mouth, her taste on his tongue and her sharp, delicious scent filling his nose, moaning with need and heat and a wonderfully bright thread of what he recognizes as shame.

And this, too, is no surprise at all, but what finally _does_ almost make him falter is the fist of pleasure that slams into his ribs when she glides her tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the head.

The noise he makes is high and strained, almost strangled, and she breathes laughter and makes him do it again. "I wanna make you feel so good, Daddy. I wanna taste your big cock. God, look at you, you're almost as wet as I am..." Hand in the center of his chest, pressing him back and up on his knees. "I make you wet, Daddy? When you think about me? Your _sweet baby girl,_ your cock in my tight pussy? In my mouth?" And it is, he _is,_ his cry muffled around the glass as she takes him in and swirls her tongue over him, flutters the tip up and down his slit. She wraps her hot fingers around him and slides down, deeper, humming in her throat, and he can't, he just absolutely can-fucking- _not,_ with her mouth full and his mouth full and this somehow feels so much more _fucked up_ than any iteration of it so far, and he loves it so fucking much he doesn't see how he won't come the second he's in her cunt.

Doesn't see how he won't come down her throat right now.

She might know. She must. Because she pulls suddenly back and he whines with the loss of it and the shock of cool air on his spit-slick, overheated skin, but he has no time to steady himself before the glass is being tugged out of his mouth and his grip and he's falling forward on his hands.

"Was I good?" Her fingers are sliding into his hair, nails scraping lightly up his scalp, and he opens his eyes and she's there inches away from him, her own eyes wide and innocent and absolutely evil. "I tried to be good for you, Daddy. You might have to show me how, later." She smiles, darts in and nips at his jaw. "Looked like you know how to do it pretty well."

 _Fuck._ "You were good, baby." He wants to laugh too. Can't. He's still working on breathing. "Oh, shit..." He tilts his head back and combs a hand into her own hair as she licks a quick line down his throat. "You're so good, little girl. Oh my _God,_ you're so fuckin' good."

"Yeah, Daddy." She kisses his collarbone, frames his neck with her hands and tugs him along with her when she drops back, pulling him partially over her. She frames him where she left the bruises on him, and he stares down at her tangle of gold hair and her plump lips and remembers how they looked in the mirror, and almost falls down and kisses her feet.

"Touch my pussy," she whispers, hooks a leg around the back of his thigh and presses. "Feel how wet I am."

He looks down. She's masterfully arranged him and she did it mostly without him being aware: he's kneeling between her legs with his cock a stiff glistening rod, her cunt tilted up to him all smooth and shining, a milky, semi-translucent trickle flowing low between her lips and down into the crack of her ass. As he watches she drops her hands and spreads her lips wide.

"Do you like it, Daddy?"

No hesitation. Not now. "I love it, honey."

"Mm..." She smiles and allows her head to loll back, her thumbs nudging the sides of her clit, pushing back the hood. His fucking _tongue_ aches. "I've been touchin' myself. Thinkin' about you."

He spreads his hand and covers her, covers _hers,_ breath hitching when his fingertip presses against the little hole nestled at the heart of her and waiting for him. "You fuck yourself, baby? Get your fingers in here?"

She nods, sighs. "Like that, Daddy, I... Oh, it's so good. I know it's so wrong, I know... But I love it, I want you so bad..."

"No one has to know, sweetheart."

"No." She moans softly and rocks her hips, encouraging him. "No one. You're gonna fuck me, Daddy?"

He bites down hard on his lip just for the sparkle of pain as he slides the tip of his finger into her, feels her squeeze him as he makes it past the first knuckle. "You told me to."

"Yeah, I did. You always give me what I want." She grips his wrist with both hands, tugging him. "Deeper, Daddy. I want you in my pussy, don't you make me wait any more."

"Thought you wanted my cock, baby."

"But I want you to _feel_ me- _Ah,_ Daddy, that's so good, I'm so..." She gasps and twists her head to the side, teeth bared. "You feel so big, I can't- I can't wait to take your cock, oh..."

"I'm gonna give it to you, baby." He can't take his eyes off her, off his hand, her cunt, every slow thrust into her seeming to push more wet out of her, running down between his fingers, spreading the wet spot on the white beneath her. "Christ, you're so wet, look at you..."

"All for you, Daddy." Said through rough moans sliding into a rhythm, matching the rise and fall of her hips. She giggles again, still holding his wrist, fingers digging in and pressing to the bone. Bruises here too. He wouldn't be surprised. "If you're good."

"Oh, baby girl... Tell me how to be good." _Please, fucking tell me, I'll do anything, anything you want, just let me. Grant me that._

All at once she pushes his hand free, shoves him away from her. He barely manages to catch himself on one hand, blinking confusion at her as she swings easily up to her knees again. "Get on your back, Daddy."

He falls. He falls so hard the breath is bounced out of him, and he doesn't have time to get it back before she's on him, his cock in her hand as she swings a leg over him and straddles his hips. He gropes for her thighs and stares up at her, _gapes_ \- blond goddess with her cheeks and lips and neck flushed red, her hair a glorious mess, those breasts, gorgeous little handfuls standing proud on her chest, her hairless cunt dripping onto him and so ready and _promised_ to him, and only because so far he's succeeded in pleasing her.

_Anything._

"I told you you wanted it." She gives him a slow, agonizing stroke and he shudders. "Watchin' me like that. Lookin' at your little girl. You're right, you shouldn't. Shouldn't wanna fuck me. But you do. And you're gonna do it now. Right?" Another stroke, and he clutches at her, hissing through his teeth.

"Yeah, baby. I'm gonna."

"Gonna fuck me hard?"

"Hard as you want, baby girl."

She grins, rolls back, presses his shaft into the crack of her ass and the world literally blurs away for a few seconds. "You're bad, Daddy. This is wrong and you're bad. Say it." For a couple of seconds he says _nothing,_ throat working, and she digs the nails of her other hand into his side and he yelps. "Say. It. Or you're just gonna watch me fuck myself again."

"It's wrong." _It is. Fucking Christ, it's so wrong, it's so perfect._ "I'm bad."

"Oh... Good..." It did something to her. He can tell. His focus snaps in, does so with vivid clarity even as she takes him by the base and lifts herself, lowers herself down and sheathes him in her hot, soaked, _sweet_ hell. Telling him to say it, hearing him obey, it _did_ something, and the very air seems to crackle. And she's there, hands braced on his chest and her head fallen between her shoulders, already starting to roll her hips as thick, helpless moans bubble up from the center of her chest.

The idea of him fucking her at all is comical. She's fucking him. All he can do is hold on.

"You're so... So _big_ , Daddy, just like I thought... Wanted it so bad, fillin' up my pussy... Oh God, _oh..._ " She's just saying things, just _words,_ and they're pounding over him and he tightens his hands on her thighs and bares his teeth and keens. "Like that... Like _that..._ "

 _Oh, shit, SHIT._ No. Not yet, please God, not yet, because he already knows she'll punish him, she'll find some new torture to inflict on him and it'll be horrible and amazing and he'll never want to be free. And not inside her, because...

" _Fuck,_ baby, you're gonna make me come-"

" _No._ "

It comes out through her own bared teeth, a grimace, almost a snarl, and she hooks her fingers and digs claws into his pectorals. "You don't come until I say, Daddy. You made me _wait_ , you tried to be _good,_ tried to get away from me, so you don't get to come _until I say._ "

 _BUT._ But he cannot possibly in any way be surprised by this. And he's not.

He's just panicking.

"Baby girl, _please..."_

"Me first, Daddy." Laughing, throwing her head back, hair a whip, hand dropping between her legs as she almost sing-songs the words in time with her hips. "Me first, me first, me first..."

He doesn't have any more words to give her. He's just whimpering, sobbing, crying and begging her, biting at his lips and cheeks to keep it back, holding onto the sting of her nails in his flesh like a lifeline. He's teetering at the edge, can't possibly hang on, every infernal movement of him inside her a hand poised to shove him over, this little _demon_ playing at being an innocent little girl, and it's all his fault because when she started to choke him he covered her hands with his and squeezed.

No. It started a long time ago.

"Oh, _fuck..._ " Every muscle in her suddenly tenses, strong and graceful, and she swings her hips forward and her shoulders back and rubs her fingers into a blur. "I'm comin', Daddy, all over your big fuckin' _cock,_ I'm comin', _Jesus fuckin' CHRIST-"_

One of the primary reasons why they decided to get a place of their own is so she can get noisy. As much as he loves to gag her, he _loves_ when she gets noisy.

But he's pretty sure the scream that rips out of her has woken anyone who was sleeping for several blocks around.

He watches long enough to see her slim waist bend and lengthen and bow as she shakes, _convulses,_ mouth wide and both arms straining, and then the spasming clench-release inside her takes his vision away and he cries out with her, in pleasure and agony and sheer fucking desperation.

Maybe words. Maybe. Flooding him like her cunt. _Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_

_Sweet baby girl, please let me go._

She's gone. He's dizzy, only half there, writhing and biting at himself and fisting the sheets now that her thighs aren't available, and when her hand closes around his shaft he jerks and cries out again. He can't, can't possibly, but she's bending close, lips ghosting across his cheekbone as she strokes him, whispering to him.

"C'mon, Daddy. You can come now, you're so good..." But he already is the second she says _C'mon,_ wrenching himself off the bed and biting back a helpless, hopeless wail, fumbling mindlessly for her and the covers and himself and _whatever_ and it feels like it's shooting out of him in a high pressure _jet_ , spattering all the way up to his fucking collarbones, and he barely hears her as she breathes _Oh my GOD, that's-_

She sounds disbelieving and delighted and now completely herself. And he has no fucking idea how he sounds and he doesn't care.

It's wrong and he's bad and it's so, so good.

~

She's holding him. Holding him against her, lying half under him, his head on her chest as she works her fingers slowly through his hair. This isn't new either, he thinks as he stirs, slides a leg over hers, turns his head and brushes his lips against the swell of her breast. She's pulled him close, cradled him, let him rest against her. Murmured to him. She's been the strong one. She's held him before, plenty of times.

But this _is_ new.

"I love you," she breathes against his temple, and shifts her legs too, tangling them. "I love you, Daryl. God, you're so..." She trails off, laughing softly - not much like her giggles from before but just as pleased.

Pleased with him. _God,_ yes. A deep shiver drifts up from somewhere foundational and mostly unmapped, and her arms tighten around him. And Jesus, he wants to map it. He wants to go down there and explore it all. Explore it _with her._

He smiles, kisses the edge of her nipple - and stiffens when he rolls even closer and something hard and smooth digs into his hipbone. He already knows what it is as he feels for it, closes his hand around it, pulls it free and holds it up.

It's really very pretty. The lamplight catches its rounded rings and deepens the purple there, lightens it in the slight dips between.

He's pretty sure it wasn't _made_ for this purpose, but shit, might as well have been.

He's come back enough to talk, though the words come out a little slurred, his tongue heavy and feeling like he's on the far end of a shot of Novocaine. "The fuck _is_ this?"

"That's... Oh." She tugs gently at his hair, and out of the corner of his eye he catches the curve of her grin. "It's just a sculpture. It was Mrs. Cavitt's. I was over her house yesterday, helpin' her daughter with the piano, y'know? And I saw it, and..." She shrugs, best she can with him mostly lying on her. "She likes me, she gave it to me when I asked."

"Mm." He runs a finger along it, lays it down between her breasts and kisses her nipple again. "Should thank her."

"I did."

"No, I should."

"Oh, _God._ " She does giggle then, rolling it up through her chest and into her throat, musical. Music. It floods him with sunshine. But then she's quiet for a moment, and he can tell she's working up to something.

He waits. She'll get to it when she's ready.

"Are you... Are you okay? With that? With this?"

He raises his head and looks at her. He knew she was going to ask, knows why, appreciates the fuck out of it, because what she just did... Took him a little further. Took some risks. But she wouldn't have done it if she didn't trust him. Trusted him to trust her. And himself.

He lifts aside the glass and lays it down beside them, covers where it was with his hand and feels her heart pulsing beneath his palm. Takes a breath.

"All I ever wanted was makin' you happy, Beth." He shakes his head slightly. She knows, but she has to _know._ "All I ever fuckin' wanted."

"Okay." She smiles faintly, so warm, and strokes his hair again. Pets him. "I mean... I don't..." She bites her lip. It's not that she doesn't want to say it, that's clear. She's just thinking about _how._ Because it matters. "I don't wanna stop... belongin' to you."

For a second or two he just keeps looking at her, searching her face, letting her search his. Then he pushes himself up - still trembling a bit - and grazes his mouth across hers. Returns the smile, delivers it directly to her lips. "I don't wanna stop belongin' to _you_."

"Oh." When he lifts his head her smile has widened, become a little giddy. "Okay. I guess... Okay."

So he kisses her again. For a while. For a long time.

There is nothing in the fucking _world_ that's wrong with this.


End file.
